The word “kanban” sometimes comes up in software and game development circles. But, when it does, it’s usually within the context of agile and scrum. And the interpretation of the term usually begins and ends with “It’s like scrum, but without sprints.” This is a massive oversimplification. You see, when I was a freshly minted scrum master, I often told folks that I was all about scrum, but I would happily kick it to the curb as soon as I found a better framework. Kanban is that framework.

You remember that time you plugged your HDMI cable into your PS4 upside-down and fried it’s video card? Or that time you clamped your ski-boots into your skis backwards and almost killed yourself on a black diamond slope as a result? Or that time you put a k-cup into a Keurig machine sideways an sprayed hot coffee all over the kitchen? No, you don’t. Because you can’t do any of those things. Those products are all designed so that they can only be used in the proper manner. The grooves on the HDMI connector, the specific clamps and catches on skis and boots, and the tapered design of Keurig k-cups mean that the proper application of the product is as obvious as its improper use is impossible. Welcome to the world of poka-yoke (poh-kah yo-kay).

Like this:

1947. Japan, still reeling from the Second World War, lies in economic ruin. And a little company called Toyota finds itself in a highly undesirable strategic position. It’s headquartered in a nation in tatters, and competing with companies in the world’s newest economic super-power: ‘Merca. How could it possible compete against companies with such amazing access to capital, resources and cash-rich customers? Well, necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention. And the necessities of Toyota’s strategic realities gave birth to one of the most remarkable feats of management ever achieved: the Toyota Production System. Or, more generically, “lean” development.